


BBQ

by Airplanesandcookies (Mosgirllee)



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: But only implied, Chirping, Chirping as Flirting, Eric "Bitty" Bittle/ Jack Zimmermann/Alexei "Tater" Mashkov/Kent "Parse" Parson, Friendship, If You Squint - Freeform, M/M, Past Kent Parson/Jack Zimmermann, building relationships, patater/zimbits
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-12
Updated: 2019-02-12
Packaged: 2019-10-26 18:06:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,484
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17750861
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mosgirllee/pseuds/Airplanesandcookies
Summary: Kent never expected that this would be the hill that he would die on, but…“Goddamnit.  We’re going to have to throw a barbecue.”Alexei looked over from where he was laying on the sofa, an empty pie plate on his bare chest. “Sounds like fun. But why?”Kent glared out the window at his neighbors.  “Because this is war.”





	BBQ

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lizards-online](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=lizards-online).



> and the prompt patater/zimbits. 
> 
> I only hope I did it justice.

Kent never expected that this would be the hill that he would die on, but…

“Goddamnit. We’re going to have to throw a barbecue.” 

Alexei looked over from where he was laying on the sofa, an empty pie plate on his bare chest. “Sounds like fun. But why?”

Kent glared out the window at his neighbors. “Because this is war.”

***  
The thing about hockey, even with the C, Kent knew that his clock was ticking in Vegas. 

It was bittersweet being right. 

Change happens fast. 

Adaptability is one of his biggest virtues, but even he never expected to end up on the East Coast. With his contract with Boston proving him otherwise, it was an easy decision to get an apartment and split his time in Providence with Alexei. It made sense even if that meant living next door to his ex and his perfect blond fiancé. But hockey, thank god, keeps you busy, he reasoned. He would barely be there, he thought. He could survive a few awkward waves from his front door, he rationalized. 

A run of bad luck took out both the Falconers and the Bruins early in the series, and that left Kent with a lot more time on his hands and a pie box on his front doorstep and a note with a happy face under round letters, ‘Welcome to the neighborhood”.

Kent has never liked pie - it’s too sweet, but he liked the sounds that Alexei made while eating the pie. And well, you know, they both were on the road, and it had been a while. Too long really. Anyway. Kent made up his mind that he had to thank Bittle for the pie. 

He ordered an extra pound of coffee from his favorite roaster down in Colorado. They have an ethiopian bean blend that tastes like chocolate and blackberries melting on your tongue. Plus, it bumped his order up for free shipping. 

He had planned to throw the bag of beans onto the Bittle-Zimmermann doorstep like a brick and run like hell. As soon as the bag hit the door, Jack opened it, also dressed for his run and waved him inside. 

“Oh my gosh, this smells amazing! See, this is worth getting up for. I’m going to brew a pot right now.” Bittle had exclaimed as soon as Jack had dragged Kent in. “Oh, this will go perfectly with the chocolate coffee cake I made!” 

Kent left an hour later with a three quarters of a coffee cake that Tater legit gasped over. 

Well, shit, Kent thought as he finished his second slice, leaning against Tater in bed. “This requires an escalation of force.”

Kent needed strategy. He needed a plan. 

The Bittle-Zimmermanns were thoughtful motherfuckers. 

Kent headed to the library.

Loaded down with every book on manners and etiquette he could grab from the 390s section of the library, along with copies of the Art of War by both Machiavelli and Sun Tzu, and a stack of Good Housekeeping magazines, he didn’t pay attention until he bumped into Jack, who was also standing in line, weighed down with a few of his own books. 

“Kent?”

It took some self control, but he managed not to try to flinch, but it sounded forced in his own ears, “Hey Zimms. Not surprised to see you here.”

Jack smiled, and Kenny suddenly is flooded with the memory of being in juniors and meeting his god awful crush, Bob Zimmermann, as he introduced Jack to some of the movers and shakers at the camp. 

The memory is visceral, especially with Jack pleasantly looking at him. Kent could practically see Bob standing there, bigger than life, sexy, confident, and powerful introducing his son, the boy who would be king. Nothing will ever compare to the sense of relief he had felt when Jack, round eyed, nerdy, and introverted, had shook his hand. If Jack had had a quarter of the charisma Bob exuded, then Kenny would have been in trouble. (Hindsight, man.) But then Jack smiled, a heartbreakingly timid smile, that only he knew the secret to, and Kent thought to himself, “well shit, at least he didn’t get the full genetic package, because that would be devastating.”

He hates being right. 

Because, Jack, has grown into himself, filling in the corners that were filled with doubt and self consciousness. Now, he is whole and healthy with that shy smile, those intense eyes, and a stack of books, he is all types of fantasy love interest material. 

Kent did not sigh. He is better than that. 

But it was definitely hard especially when Jack invited him and Tater over for dinner later in the week. It was damn near impossible when Kenny’s car refused to start in the parking lot, and Jack immediately pulled his car over, popped open both hoods and jumped his car. 

Kent pulled into his own driveway feeling as if he had lost significant ground. He lost this battle. 

***

“I don’t understand, why are you upset that Zimboni and B are being nice to us?” Tater asked. And it’s a reasonable question with unreasonable answers so Kent doesn’t reply. 

Tater heard him anyway. “You are very competitive. We all are. But you are not going to beat B. It’s his court. We should be grateful that we have such wonderful friends nearby who bring us pie for no reason.”

Kent snorted at that. “ You sound half in love with him.”

Tater stood up, stretched before heading towards Kenny on the couch. “There are many harder things to do. Breathing, blinking, heartbeats. It’s the same with Zimboni. Instinctive to love, hard not to.”

Tater is clearly a traitor. 

***

Parse was outmanned. Winning was futile. 

He brought over more coffee and a pretty green leafy plant as a thank you for the car jump. Jack responded by helping him pull up the dying bushes in his own yard, and then letting Kenny borrow his truck to pick up new plants from Home Depot. 

He hadn’t even thought of a response to that when a summer storm knocked out the power in their house and Bittle showed up in a poncho with a picnic basket of baked goods, a bottle of wine, candles, and a wink. Tater winked back. 

Like he said, Tater was a traitor. 

Kenny hadn’t even picked out the date to host a summer BBQ before Jack was knocked on the door to invite him and Tater over for their own summer party. 

“I give up.” Kent said to himself as he watched Bitty flit around the backyard party refiling drinks and making conversation as Jack watched him from over in his own conversation with his his father, “uncle Mario”, Tater, and a few of the Falconer’s senior management. 

Summer on the East Coast never approached what he saw in Nevada, but at the same time, it was humid and no one depending on air conditioning like their lives depended on it. Kenny felt the sweat drip down his face from his cap and he escaped the crowd to hide inside the house. 

Mostly everyone had moved outside, leaving the house cool and quiet and with nothing else to do with his nervous energy, Kenny decided to get a head start on the dishes in the sink. The mess builds up during parties and Kent can tell that Bittle isn’t one to tolerate a messy kitchen. 

He’s finished loading the dishwasher and started rinsing out the sink when a soft hand touched him on the back. 

“This is so kind. Thank you so much.” Bittle said, and he can see why Tater likes him so damn much even though Kenny has worked hard to avoid seeing it. 

“Not a problem.” He said, focused more on the sink than Bittle. 

“Well, I appreciate it. I was looking for you. Jack said your birthday is coming up and I made you a cheesecake. You raved on instagram about a cheesecake you had in NY and I thought I would try to recreate it for you.”

And it’s a one, two hit. Kent is done. His will to fight vanquished. Between the consideration and the validation, Tater is right. He was fighting an uphill battle all along. Defeat feels like a relief. 

“I bet its spectacular. You are going to have to show me how to make it.”

Bittle beamed back at Kenny just as Tater and Jack walked in. “If you baking with B, I want to come too.”

“Anytime! Ask Jack, I love teaching you guys how to bake.”

Jack smirked, knowing and fond. “He just wants to cover you in flour while chirping you.”

“I do not! That is your M.O. Jack Zimmermann.”

And just like that, the picture that Kent couldn’t see clearly righted itself and he could see how he fit in this scene, happy and ready to surrender and make peace.


End file.
